It Started With a Nightie
By Anne Ritson
After getting the problem off my chest, the writing took off again. I now had the added advantage of Lynn proff-reading and giving me a sounding board for ideas. I was very pleased with the insight into what women get up to getting themselves ready and why they disappear into the bathroom for hours on end.
I'd been writing almost by rote, following the same routine for the characters getting dressed, doing make-up and so on. Having Lyn's guidance into how women think about their clothes and cosmetics gave me pointers. I was able to channel these into the characters, putting flesh onto the bones so to speak, albeit with a certain amount of guesswork. Some things were apparently sacred.
Lingerie
Somewhere along the line I graduated from the nightie to lingerie - bra, stockings, suspenders and panties. If the nightie had been a shock to the system, the lingerie just about blew my head off. I know that it was a little strange for Lynn, the first time I filled up the bra cups with balled up socks she wasn't too happy at all. I could see her point, so I didn't push it, though I think that when she saw what she could achieve by playing with my nipples through the bra, she was as impressed as I was!
After a boozy night at the local we got home and I got it into my head to 'go all the way'. The beer having loosened my tongue from my brain I asked if she'd mind making up my face. She agreed with the proviso that in the future I was to start doing my own. Watching the transformation in the mirror while she worked, I was astounded by the amount of work that actually goes into making up a face. The change in my looks astounded me even more, once Lynn had attacked my unruly hair I just about fell off the side of the bath...
The make-up kept dragging me back to the mirror, staring at my reflection in fascination, puckering my lips and trying to see the 'ME' beneath the cosmetics. I've never been particularly fashion conscious, nor have I ever really been bothered with how I look. This 'other self' was immediately different though, I was deeply concerned about how my hair looked and what would other shades of lipstick and eye shadow do?
Lynn says she notices a change come over me when I'm dressed, calmer, softer, kinder? I've not really explored this with her, perhaps I should, but then again I find the prospect rather daunting. I know I feel much more relaxed and at ease and that I'm intensely aware of 'myself'. It might be that I'm afraid of losing the feelings and sensations if I try to classify them. There is also the worry that Lynn is merely 'putting up' with my sudden interest in crossdressing. I've asked her, halfheartedly, if she minds. She has said that she doesn't and that she actually actually likes it, though I still have the nagging fear that she'll ask me to stop.
Guilt
That must be the guilt coming through I guess. Though why I should feel guilty about being a transvestite I don't know. It's not as if anyone I know has ever told me that crossdressing is the ultimate evil and that practitioners of this 'black art' will be sent to eternal damnation.
Alright, so the media does, and the bible does too. I've never paid much attention to the former, and no attention at all to the latter, so, as I don't really care what anyone thinks of me, where does this guilt come from? I don't know and I don't care, but I don't like it either.
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